


Mountain Music

by Evil_Little_Dog



Category: Witch Mountain Series - All Media Types
Genre: Community: comment_fic, Gen, POV Outsider, Prompt Fic, Wordcount: 100-500
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-31
Updated: 2014-10-31
Packaged: 2018-02-23 07:36:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2539664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evil_Little_Dog/pseuds/Evil_Little_Dog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary: The mountain is cursed. Or something.<br/>Disclaimer: Beyond not mine, but the movies meant a lot to me as a little kid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mountain Music

You'd heard ever since you were a little kid not to go up on Witch Mountain, that it was haunted. Something bad was up there, something that could really hurt kids. Not even the hunters would go up in the woods, even though the animals would stand just outside the tree line. No one would take one of those deer, or set traps for the rabbits. Even the fur animals were left alone, despite their size and thickness of their pelts. No one would risk the curse of what was up there. 

When you were a teenager, it was pretty common for the idiot boys to dare each other to spend the night on the mountain. As far as you knew, none of them ever did - the cops did patrol the area pretty well, but they weren't the whole reason why no one ever went there. The stories about the lights and the sounds was warning enough, even for the craziest of the teenagers. 

Your momma said the lights were from aliens, that she'd seen a spaceship when she was little. Everyone always laughed her down - Witch Mountain was known for _witches_ , not aliens. But you wondered. Wouldn't witches need food or houses or something? There were never any signs of any of that on the mountain, and people did survey it by plane every once in a while. Looking for signs of minerals, of anything that could be exploited, well, they never seemed to find anything. 

Curious, that. 

One night, you were driving out that area. Being a veterinarian meant long hours and longer drives, and sometimes, trips past the mountain. On this night, there was a sickle sliver of a moon, riding low on the horizon. You had the windows down and the radio on low, just a murmur of sound to keep you company. 

At first, you thought you’d lost your station, but when you turned the radio knob, the sound faded and crackled, static filling the airwaves. You turned off the radio, and, as you did, the engine of your truck sputtered and died. You managed to force it off the side of the road, reaching for your cell, only to realize there were no bars. 

But there was music. 

It drifted down from the mountain, strange stuff, though melodic. It soothed you and excited you and made you want to weep. You could feel it straight down to your bones, like it came through the ground and rose up into you like energy. 

You don't know how long you sat there, with a dead truck and a dead cell, and the music pouring through you, but finally, you take a deep breath, realizing the music was gone except for a lingering feeling deep inside you. 

Witches on the mountain, you think, turning the key to start the engine of your truck. It starts immediately. Whatever was up there, you think it should stay, and not come down here. 

Ever.


End file.
